


CDXL.

by Ex-Genesis (SevlinRipley)



Category: Marvel
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Established Relationship, M/M, Sex in a Car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-16 23:50:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9295115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SevlinRipley/pseuds/Ex-Genesis
Summary: Post-mission arousal is a pretty common thing.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [V-bird](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=V-bird).



The rest of the guys cleared out of the tactical vehicle as if loading off a school bus. Rollins, who'd sat up front was the last to roll out, from his driver's position, after getting a _look_ from Brock that said he ought not to question why Steve and himself were being so slow to do the same. There Steve was, sitting with his shield in front of him, covering his abdomen, half of his chest, blocked down to his knees. Brock made like he was getting out of the car himself, and stood at the doors, which he held to his sides, smirking at the Captain who was clearing his throat and looking down at the floor.

"You coming?" Brock asked, head tilted.

Steve drew in a breath and then looked up purposefully. "Just need a minute, then I'll be on my way to debrief."

Chuckling under his breath, Brock leaned in further, "Post-mission erection, Cap?"

Steve's head lilted, and then he ticked his jaw to the side in kind. Before falling from the metal bench, to his knees, he threw his shield to the other side of the vehicle, and then approached the exit. As soon as he was in Brock's face, he said, flinty, "Shut the fuck up, Commander," and kissed him hard, pulling at Brock's black shirt. Brock followed orders well - when he wanted to. They worked in synergy to get Brock into the vehicle, and the doors closed before any prying eyes could detect the reason.

Once Brock was fully laid out on top of Steve, still kissing his breath away, Steve let up his grip on the shirt, and maneuvered between them to relieve Rumlow of his belt. "I'm not the only one," Steve said, after biting Brock's lip to break contact.

"Never said you were."

"Then get undressed already," Steve said, pushing Brock up at the release of his pants button, by the shoulders, so he could flip himself over. "And undo my suit while you're at it." That was the annoying part of his suit. Suits. He had a couple, Tony's care for his will-being, and Fury's goal _not_ to have one of his best weapons out of sorts. Some had side-zips to allow for independence. Others... were the bane of Steve's existence, although ultimately more protective of his vital organs.

He happened to be wearing one whose access was at the back, and that much more difficult for him to undo himself. Brock obliged, of course, first tending to Steve, and then pulling his shirt off, just for it to be flung into the back corner of the car. The windows were tinted, so someone might see something moving, but all in all, the important parts were hidden from view.

With Steve out of his suit, and on his back once again, Brock with his pants down around his cock, they began kissing in haste. Steve grabbed Brock by the buttock, pulling him low to drag their waists together, erections brushing sweetly against each other. Their motions were almost aggressive with intent, but showed, moreover, an intense need to be close. Firm grips, precise draw of mouths against throats, presses of lips to shells of ears, chest tight to chest as their cocks leaked between them. Growing more needy until Steve took himself and Brock in hand.

Brock breathed hotly across Steve's chest, hitching as he grew closer with Steve's calloused hand, and hot, hard cock pulled against him, pushed into him as he thought over and over about the lies and deceit and yet still existing trust between them, from fighting and winning a mission together not an hour earlier, to sitting around the mess hall eating lukewarm mashed potatoes, to sparring as practice to preserve each other's lives. Steve kissed his sweaty temple as Brock came onto their stomachs, as Brock tightly shut his eyes, and groaned. Steve, too was breathing heavily, but dared to smile almost-sweetly at Brock when he lifted his head, and then shimmied down Steve's body to take the Captain in his mouth. His whole cock would never fit, but Brock had done this enough times before to know where his tongue should go, how much suction was needed to make Steve fall apart 3 or 4 inches in, with his hands tearing at Brock's hair and scalp, heat licking all the way up his stomach, and tingling within his toes.

He sucked Steve dry, and then gave his own cock a few tugs before placing himself away. Without any bedside manner whatsoever, he pulled his shirt back on, and then flipped Steve over like they were in a wrestling ring, jolting Steve's zipper up after the super soldier managed to get his arms back in his sleeves. Brock looked at the back of his partner, a moment seeming to stretch on, with not a glint of emotion in his eyes; he swallowed hard, then hit at Steve's ass playfully before pushing open the doors. "Your hair's a mess," he tossed back, as Steve lifted himself to his shield. "You better fix it if you want your cute little reputation to stay in tact."

Steve huffed out a derisive laugh, then said, "Yeah, well your shirt's on backwards."

Brock tried his best to stave off the smirk he felt on his lips, before making a show of turning it the right way round in front of everyone, blocking Steve's way out. "See you at the brief, _Captain_."


End file.
